A Conversation:

An engineers peotry shows our versatility,

(They think that anything they do not do must be easy,)

great creativity,

(have the biggest egos,)

and proves that everything is based on math.

(and think everyone should learn what they know.)

A poets engineering exposes their shortcomings

(Why must engineers take apart everything they touch,)

and nearly complete lack of...

(and insist that I not...)

any mechanical ability.

(call someone who knows how to fix it right.)

Misdirected Bridges

Craig Gunn

Off on the horizon

fingers to the sky…

Pressing palm to palm…

ever reaching further…

Beyond brothers and sisters

uncles and aunts

and distant cousins.

Each with a prayer in mind -

The concentrated thought of

engineers and architects,

builders and visionaries,

day laborers and passers by.

The monoliths rise, ever reaching

to their ultimate creator.

Never gazing to the earth

beneath their foundations.

Standing tall, ever rejoicing in their creators’ dream.

Misdirected bridges.

Thermodynamic Haikus

Craig W. Somerton

Thermodynamics

Is all about energy

Work and heat also

First Law of Thermo

Energy change is equal

To heat minus work

Thermo’s Second Law

Universe entropy change

Is always growing

Nano, Nano

There was a young, bold engineer,

Thought nanoperfection was near.

But his Buckyballs burst

Like an overstuffed wurst.

How his tenure committee shed tears!

Young Ron

Young Ron was deemed structurally sound,

Much at ease with both Pascal and pound.

His trouble was tresses,

At best they were guesses.

With the shards of those tresses he’s crowned.

--Quintellius Quaesitor

Ode to My Planner

By Amber Rogers Civil/Environmental

Without you, where would I be ?

You are the Who, What, When and Where,

My very foundation, my guide.

You are the keeper of my secrets, my questions, my hopes and my plans.

You have met every aquaintance, every commitment, every connection.

I’ve entrusted you with all that is important to me,

And you hold it all close, guard it as your own.

You have become a living record of me,

My every word having been etched into your being.

If ever I am in need of direction, you are there,

Open, offering your counsel, offering yourself.

You guide my path, support my ideas, and present me with a daily purpose.

You ease my mind, set me free of confusion, and organize my thoughts.

Without you I would be lost in this swirling haze that characterizes my reality.

Without you, planner, I would be lost.

You have become an integral component of my life, an essential partner.

We are intracately linked, joined by the threads, by the bindings that compose the

Pages of our lives.

By Barb O’kelly

Alas, I've lost that little chip

with all the files from my Zip!

By Bernadette Friedrich

Engineering at MSU,
Electrical, computer to name a few;

Co-ops, jobs, help from the staff,
Good for your career, good for a laugh!

MSU Engineering, I'm glad I'm in. . .

Now for this poem, what do I win?

The Worm Before Christmas

By David Bradley, Betty Cheng, Hal Render, Greg Rogers, and Dan

LaLiberte

University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

Christmas 1988

T'was the night before finals, and all through the lab

Not a student was sleeping, not even McNabb.

Their projects were finished, completed with care

In hopes that the grades would be easy (and fair).

The students were wired with caffeine in their veins

While visions of quals nearly drove them insane.

With piles of books and a brand new highlighter,

I had just settled down for another all nighter ---

When out from our gateways arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter;

Away to the console I flew like a flash,

And logged in as root to fend off a crash.

The windows displayed on my brand new Sun-3,

Gave oodles of info --- some in 3-D.

When, what to my burning red eyes should appear

But dozens of "nobody" jobs. Oh dear!

With a blitzkrieg invasion, so virulent and firm,

I knew in a moment, it was Morris's Worm!

More rapid than eagles his processes came,

And they forked and exec'ed and they copied by name:

"Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!

On Comet! On Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!

To the sites in .rhosts and host.equiv

Now, dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the phone,

The complaints of the users. (Thought I was alone!)

"The load is too high!" "I can't read my files!"

"I can't send my mail over miles and miles!"

I unplugged the net, and was turning around,

When the worm-ridden system went down with a bound.

I fretted. I frittered. I sweated. I wept.

Then finally I core dumped the worm in /tmp.

It was smart and pervasive, a right jolly old stealth,

And I laughed, when I saw it, in spite of myself.

A look at the dump of that invasive thread

Soon gave me to know we had nothing to dread.

The next day was slow with no network connections,

For we wanted no more of those pesky infections.

But in spite of the news and the noise and the clatter,

Soon all became normal, as if naught were the matter.

Then later that month while all were away,

A virus came calling and then went away.

The system then told us, when we logged in one night:

"Happy Christmas to all! (You guys aren't so bright.)"

By Robert Vance

The cat got a rude introduction

To the blistering effects of conduction;

It felt a bit lame

After licking the flame,

When its tongue was unable to function.

Three Haikus

By Brian and Julie Olson

Quicker Clicker you,

Are the ultimate pencil

You make me smarter

Staedler eraser

Without you I’d have mistakes

You take them away

Green paper, grid lines

An engineer’s treasured friend

Work will never end.

By Bryan Sieber

Engineering is not much fun

Sometimes I wonder

Why I ever wanted to be one

(MS)Word Trouble:

by Chris Maurice

i toil by pixel

light to make my thoughts form words

programs crash again

Web Link:

just one page is all

i wanted but instead see

error 404

A Conversation:

by Chris Maurice

An engineers peotry shows our versatility,

(They think that anything they do not do must be easy,)

great creativity,

(have the biggest egos,)

and proves that everything is based on math.

(and think everyone should learn what they know.)

A poets engineering exposes their shortcomings

(Why must engineers take apart everything they touch,)

and nearly complete lack of...

(and insist that I not...)

any mechanical ability.

(call someone who knows how to fix it right.)

Misdirected Bridges

By Craig Gunn

Off on the horizon

fingers to the sky…

Pressing palm to palm…

ever reaching further…

Beyond brothers and sisters

uncles and aunts

and distant cousins.

Each with a prayer in mind -

The concentrated thought of

engineers and architects,

builders and visionaries,

day laborers and passers by.

The monoliths rise, ever reaching

to their ultimate creator.

Never gazing to the earth

beneath their foundations.

Standing tall, ever rejoicing in their creators’ dream.

Misdirected bridges.

Thermodynamic Haikus

Craig W. Somerton

Thermodynamics

Is all about energy

Work and heat also

First Law of Thermo

Energy change is equal

To heat minus work

Thermo’s Second Law

Universe entropy change

Is always growing

Bob Crachit is out of work.

By Dr.Donald Weinshank

Bob Crachit is

out of work,

outofajob,

unemployed;

broke.

When the Dells came in,

Scrooge said,

“You are consigned

to the dustbin

of data."

Marley’s geist[1] clanked.

There was no third ghost.

Geist = spirit

Second question

by Gary Cloud

At my office door

red-gold hair and green-blue eyes

usually glowing

pale and brittle today

My guts say it will be difficult;

old professors know

the second question is the big one.

The first one is little;

she used diameter instead of radius.

I tell her that she obviously understands

and that she is doing fine.

"No I'm not...I'm sorry."

choked, mashing tissue

into mud puddle eyes

Broken sobs

broken heart

broken person

empathy stabs

vision of my children

close door

wait

"Tell me?"

"No, It's personal;

I do not know you."

"Maybe that is best.

I might be able to help,

but privacy is precious.

Your call."

"My life is a mess.

I don't know what to do."

listen, wait

fetch pain

Her parents just separated

her period is late

her boyfriend has taken a hike

all at once

listen, ask, wait

eyes fogged mirrors

She agrees to visit the counseling center,

but she might not need it, of course.

a rickety little laugh

She promises to stop in every day for awhile

so I will know she is all right.

She keeps the promise,

then reports one day

the alarm was false,

she is wiser and stronger,

her ex-boyfriend is exactly that,

her parents must lead their own lives.

She cannot fix them.

Green-blue eyes glow;

she is grateful

and glad.

I also.

General Coords

By Gary Gosciak

There they were the coords

X, y, z, theta, and phi

A description need be

Made in general coords

Should use x, or maybe z

But then what's to happen with theta, and phi

Not biased against y

'Cause can't use y

for it does not uniquely specify

where in the frame is m

the jth particle of general coords.

By Gary Gosciak

client/service/users/

a little anthapomorphic cross referencing

possible enlightenment background hue

round together

a bit of shamanistic representation

a path of computer/mechanical engineering

All levels are agents

All levels are servers

not All levels are clients

Base level can only be a server

although may be a client with regards to itself

there is the highest most client the one the user

with its servers below

which are also clients

requesting service from the servers comprising its entity

down to the base

the root server raw level

that can only be a client

the nature of its internal form

All agents encompass service

but not all agents are served

in the agent

is duality there

the server and the served

the base All server comprised of what it serves

bound by the essence of client

the peak not just a client, also a server in the image of the One

evolving in progression by numbers of which can request service

striving and providing

for the One, the umbrella, the ontology overhead

the User

the ultimate client

the one wanting to know

the hunter of knowledge

a warrior of the domain

ubiquitous seer of all what is

By Gary Gosciak

If it is the case

that we stay in our place

then what should be the pace

seem to be moving to fast

heading into the future without considering the past

What we set forth on today

won't come about tomorrow

just a picking of the clay

let our minds play

while it takes time to cure

sure it would be nice

to have the outcome like a rolling of the dice

but the probability of this possibility

is silly to say

a needle in the hay

of what people want to be tomorrow and not today

only the whims of yesterday

never to be the same

when people play the game

with the possibility on the probability that we are all in the same

plane

to see the train

the bus making its stops for all to board

even if from a different chord

yet on a different scale to grow

gotta keep it slow

no need to go

keep it easy

keep on considering the past

sit and consider our space

if it is the case

that we stay in our place

Beal's Garden

By Gary Gosciak

next to a tree

somewhat in the center

head next to its base

melt into the ground

traveling around the roots

depths of earth

make solid

and the smells in the air

sweet beginnings of growth

rooted firmly with the ground

sprouting forth into the wind

mixing with sound

scent from flowers

shaking the cold blanket

days past and expressing noxious potions of comfort

dancing with rays long journey from the sun

bouncing around

absorbing warming light

breeze spreading along

chattering grass

passing life

weaved through motion

next to each other connected

touching the ends of the garden

farther to home

to loved ones

gliding away

riding the wind

a bird trailing

the song mingling

to sit up with open eyes

lovely the sights

earthen body

mind rooted with what round

hearing traveling with the sound

balance above the pool

hands immersed in cool waters

touching orange white yellow fish

mouths open shut

inhale exhale

returning to balance

as understanding dawns upon me brains

night falls as the days self dies

my eyes cries

washing away the stains

residue of past self

so many dawns ago

night falls onto me

Hello, may I introduce myself

I'm a man born from my death

would you care to take my hand

north a journey we must make

darkness falls

don't be afraid

it doesn't mean we have no sight

down to the depths the roots we follow of the world tree

walkin with the dead

talkin with the dead

you said the dawn is coming for me

Hello, may I introduce myself

I'm a man you've met so many dawns ago

death has brought me here

may I take your hand

would you care to dance.

By Gary Gosciak

Just took a break from not doing work

sat outside and fell into a daze

found myself in the middle of a maze

in and out back and around

flowing along about and beyond

passing through live images

of old past possible scrimmages

who what where why

finding it all when up in the sky

connected back to the ground

through the trees not making a sound

just an essence patiently waiting to be found

traveling to places without any form

coming to visit old places once existed

making new acquaintances with places never been a guest

dancing with a storm

letting it flow without being resisted

on a journey without any quest...

STARLIGHT

By Jason Jeffrey

Powerful, yet dim

Too far to feel, yet they are so real

Burning with haze

Their strength strikes with daze

Radiating with light

Obscuring the night

The weave is woven in the starlight

Calling upon the power of mind

You fly to them

Intricately placed,

From side to side

They empower you.

The light ballistically charges your energies

Too much, your head feels

Like a ripened apple

In a clenched fist

Relentless to gain control, you find it.

The retreat comes frantically.

You soar with the intricate colors, away.

Finding yourself back at home

You loosen your icy grip

On the open window stone

And you gaze into the stars, awestricken.

My husband…

V alued

A ccommodating

L ifeline

E fficient

N ice

T errific

I deal

N eighborly

E xcellent!

Written by: Jeanette Robertson

February 13, 2001

Engineers…

Gears are working.

Men and women ALL in sink.

S cience

C omputers

I nternational

E ngines

N ational

C alculus I & II

E nvironment!

Written by: Jeanette Robertson

February 13, 2001

The Test

By Joe Kramer

I walk in the room prepared.

Spent hours studying, cramming my brain.

Examining,

Dissecting,

Analyzing every question.

I sit in my seat,

Pencil in hand,

Waiting for my moment of glory.

The test is passed out and I glance at the first page.

What is this?

None of these were discussed.

What’s going on?

My heart starts throbbing,

My brain feels like it is being picked at by starving vultures.

The student next to me chops their gum nosily

and adding pressure to the test at hand.

I answer the first question

and continue till the light turns on.

Hurry up and finish,

because I have another test next hour.

Winter in Michigan

By Joe Kramer

The sky turns a dark gray.

The wind rustles the bare trees,

and a dog barks in the distance.

A snow flake gracefully falls.

You see another, and another.

Soon the whole sky is a mass of white.

You sit back and watch the snow

slowly accumulate on the ground.

Not a single soul leaves their warm house,

But I venture out into the winter storm.

I breathe in the air,

and watch the warm air leave my lungs.

I look around at the world around me,

and a sudden calm comes over me.

I see things clearly and wonder,

Why can’t everyday be like this?

High-Note Home Run

By Joe Kramer

I step up to my music stand,

I see the music staring back at me.

A mass of black runs across the

vast white paper.

I fiddle around and try it out.

The first page throws me a High-Fast ball,

Easy enough.

The second page gives me a little chin-music.

Okay, I see how you want to play it.

I see the last note approaching fast,

Octave D.

I call my shot.

I see the wind up, the pitch,

I connect!

It soars out of the ball park.

I’m brought back to the Jazz room,

with the sound of the crowd cheering in my ears.

Hey, this isn’t so hard after all.

Storm

By Joe Kramer

Vast

C l ou d

S l o w l y

E n g u l f s

The night sky,

A bolt of lightning

Flashes like magnesium

u n i t i n g w i t h f i r e

Thunder rumbles with its low

bass r e s p o n s e to t h e world

showing n o s i g n o f letting up

The wind blows, trying to get at you

But you are safe and out of harms way

After many hours, the storm abruptly

s t o p s, a n d i t i s s i l e n t,

the clouds d i s a p p e a r, the sun

comes o u t f r o m its nap

and smiles upon us.

My Poem Would Eat Nothing

By Joe Kramer

Like a stubborn little child acquiring new tastes.

I try to feed him

metaphors, verbs, nouns,

but they all oozed out.

How about a fresh batch of adjectives?

No.

Well I am running out of options.

How about some pro-nouns?

Everybody loves pro-nouns.

No,

there they go dribbling off the page and onto the floor.

I have no idea what to try next,

but maybe you will be ready tomorrow.

The Plight of an Engineer

By Julie Richards

Unfortunately for him, he had spent

last night holed up in a cubicle,

barely cognizant.

Now wasn’t much better.

There was a fuzzy taste in his mouth

reminiscent of the Mountain Dew

that he had gulped in vain.

And his calculator was stolen.

He sighs and clumsily knocks over a

Large pile of books…

It is later and he is still the most unfortunate hero.

There is now newspaper print strewn across his forehead

because he had fallen asleep while

listening to them muse over omegas’ and thetas’ and other such nonsense

that appears in books that only four or five people

had ever cared to read.

As he meanders through the hallway,

He remembers something he really shouldn’t have forgot—

long forms were due

yesterday…

After running across the mile long hall,

He trips unfortunately over his shoelace.

They had said to him—too bad. No excuse.

It’s unfortunate because you are so bright.

But our tragic hero is not finished just yet:

He cuts and darts through the mass that had gathered to watch him fall

and opens a door slowly and deliberately.

Air flows past him regardless of ΔT’s and h’s

At last! Our hero leaps gracefully in triumph—

He is free.

By Julie Richards

I sit and stare at

The blank paper before me—

Argh! Vibrations’ test.

One Of Many

By; Kate Stolarski

Quiet

Unearthly Pain

Aimed at students.

No way to retreat.

To the end, to the death

Unconsciously

Memorized

Catastrophe

Heeds every moment.

Embolism waiting to happen;

Minds fail to comprehend

Infinitesimal concepts.

Schrodinger laughs at me.

This is too much!

Retreat! Retreat!

Yearning for May

By Laura Hudy

Calm autumn day stroll

...leaves colored, scattered about

...crushing forces sound.

Untitled

By Malinda Funk

Craig Gunn asked for a poem during e-week

What to write, I do seek

The answer became clear

About what, I do fear

Maybe, how 'bout a geek?

Warrior Fairies

By Mark Melnykowycz

What wondrous light

I saw last night

When shimmering showers

Wrought forth intrepid flowers

And warrior fairies fought on buffalo prairies

Waging war

Mainly with red berries

Which smelled slightly of ripened cherries

But dawn was at hand

As the mystic moon began to set

A fiery sun rose so high

The battle scattered

Battlements left forsaken

The ramparts were deserted

Warrior fairies fled to the wood

Below their vibrant green canopy

The warriors gathered more mortars

And prepared for the coming moon

Wild Freedom

By Mark Melnykowycz

Tell me I’m strong

Remind me I’m free

Remove this weight from by brow

So that I might flee

Free to the mountains

So I might dive through the clouds

Free in the canyons

With spirits set on the walls

Free on white dunes

Where the horned kings roam free

Out on the water

So I can paddle after an otter

Out on the ocean

With waves in perpetual motion

Out in the blue paradise

Where we can play with the Orca

Bad Craziness and Precipitation Aging While Trapped in St. Patrick’s Day

By Mark Melnykowycz

Images melting in the rain

Somewhere near a snowy drain

Thoughts drowning with time

Whiskey tasting like wine

Unlocking Blue doors

Following wicked corridors

Oblivious to the obvious

Lost in a subterranean gaze

Pushing through a sea of jelly arms

Lost and unable to focus

Swimming in a translucent haze

Dancing through the twisted maze

Titanic dynamics

Spilling non-sequential antics

Words cascading on the floor

Trapped in St. Patrick’s Day

"Kimberly"

How can someone be so beautiful?

A single red rose, opening its arms to the

Warmth of the morning sun, celestial radiance

Reflected in the moisture on its petals.

A gentle wind caressing the trees on a

Hot day, refreshing, cooling, soothing,

Bringing relief where none is expected.

A full moon gazing down upon a calm

Lake, its eye mirrored in the liquid glass,

Nestled among the blanket of stars that transforms

The endless night sky into a sanctuary for lovers.

Fallen snow, melting and freezing, melting

And freezing, forming sculptures of ice that

Change constantly, yet remain stunning.

How can a person compare to such loveliness?

How is it that you surpass all these things?

I cannot fathom how this is possible... but you

Are simply the most beautiful thing in my life.

Mark Pulver

2/13/2001

By Martin Tiffenback and Jared Martin

"Craig Gunn tries so hard,

yet no one submits,

Engineering and Poetry just don't mix."

The Land of Mines

By Mary Geebia

My heart, it races as

My mind, it frets.

The furrowed brow

And pouting lips

Predict the woes.

My soul stands strong

Smiling gently

Reassuring.

It soothes and nods

As if it knows.

But how-

How can it know??

"But what if.....?"

The heart protests.

The mind collects

The coins of past

And builds a treasury

Of doubt.

The calming voice

Must stop the mind.

It must succeed

Somehow, Sometime.

If the light is to shine

The mind must stop

The fear must shed

The doubts disperse.

The games of fear

Must not commence

Or lose I must.

Hold my tongue and

Hands, thoughts, and

fears.

Lead them not into

The field of mines.

For though I plant them

I know not where they lay.

1-26-97, Sunday, 3:00 am

CLOUDY

By Mary Gebbia

They write of the sun

They write of the breeze

But what of the clouds?

There are mine, I see.

The tiniest whisp

That comes into being

Subtle and quiet

Then motion defining.

Movement and growth

Shapes them forthcoming.

A puff and a curve

More depth with my loving.

Then climbing and bright

Proud and pretentious

Full of the droplets

That make up their souls.

My child is such

Of a cloud in the sky

Ever changing and growing

Quiet, then glowing.

And when the gold flame

Supports from behind,

How bright is the glow

With rays bursting forth.

Though there be storms

And rain that must shed,

The warmth of the gold

Shall ever the glow.

By Mary Morz

I was driving down the road minding my own business the other day when all of a sudden I heard a loud thump.
Gasp! My tailpipe and my bumper were behind me in some sort of crater!
I stopped the car and ran towards the crater to retrieve my beloved car parts.
When all of a sudden two masked men with capes swooped down to save the day!
Having just seconds to spare the first masked man stopped another person (and their car) from the same fate of falling into the clutches of the evil crater.

At the same time the other masked man retrieved the pieces of my vehicle and at the same time in one motion from under his cape came a huge shovel and the biggest pile of "black gold, Texas tea" you ever did see. He filled the hole to the top and quick as a wink the two masked men stomped and danced until it was filled and flat . Away they flew with a hearty "Happy pothole free driving".

A crowd formed around where the crater had been. They were amazed at the swiftness of the potholes demise. I heard many exclaim, "Hurray!" Everyone asked, "does anyone know who the masked strangers were or where did he come from"?

The identity of the masked crusaders hit me like a 'sack of road tar'.

For the identity of the strangers, our heros, could be no other than the famous Masked MSU Civil Engineering Pavement Duo. Everyone gasped and inquired "Who, which ones, how do you know?" Of course I knew their identity from my many years as departmental secretary. I knew without a doubt the identity of the masked avengers who were brought here to protect our car from car-eating potholes were without a doubt Dr. Gilbert Baladi, the MSU Civil Engineering Asphalt Testing Guru and his able-bodied Sidekick, MSU Civil Engineering Asphalt expert Neeraj Buch. I knew that they were sent here from a higher power to rid the State of Michigan of potholes forever!!!!!!

Thank you Guru and Asphalt expert for saving my car tailpipe and bumper from certain death! I will never forget what you did!

Three Days

By Matt Mercieca

First Day

Who am I?

I stand and watch.

What to do?

I am taunted.

Where to go?

I don't know.

Why is that?

The questions ring.

How do we?

Try to answer.

Second day

Who am I?

A worker here.

What to do?

What I can.

Care Instructions

By Matt Mercieca

If this scarf had a label it would say,

In that most peculiar label way,

That only clean and dry should it ever be.

However, if it were up to me,

As for yourself you are about to see,

There is another way for it may be.

Clean in a washing machine if you must,

With water cool and little fuss,

No softener may you use,

And bleach also you must loose.

In a dryer it may not say,

Unless on low for it to play.

With an iron cool you may press,

No more, and certainly no less.

If to you my words mean aut,

Then very well have you been taught.

For years this scarf you can wear,

Without ever so much as a care,

Of cold, of sleet, or of snow,

Of these things you need not know.

For happy and warm will you be,

As the world will surely see.

Ingulara Variation

By Michael Goppold

What a girl's got,

Where a girl bleeds,

..whatever makes her happy,

um, he.. he..

And I'm thanking you for giving it to me!

Oh baby! Oh Darlin,

gosh that's what I need!

When a girl's hot,

excep-tion-aly tweeked,

whatever keeps her on top,

And I'm thanking you for reading this,

..gotta stop. ;)

By Mike Penner

Roses are Red,

Violets are blue,

Engineers are cool,

Why aren't you?

By Mike Reytsman

Я видел радугу

Над инженерным факультетом

В её лучах аж плавился метал,

Да, плохи нынче шутки с факультетом

Который гаммой отвечает на фингал.

Я видел радугу

Над инженерными полями

Радиоктивность пёрла из всех мест,

Коровы выживут сказали из сельхоза,

Студенты тоже если будут пить и есть.

Я видел радугу

Над инженерным пейзажем

Она излучала мощь

Я видел радугу

Над инженерным факультетом

В её лучах аж плавился метал,

Да, плохи нынче шутки с факультетом

Который гаммой отвечает на фингал.

Я видел радугу

Над инженерными полями

Радиоктивность пёрла из всех мест,

Коровы выживут сказали из сельхоза,

Студенты тоже если будут пить и есть.

Я видел радугу

Над инженерным пейзажем

Она излучала мощь

Translations:

I saw a rainbow

Over college of engineering

Its' radiation melted metal

Don't joke around with people who might reply by gamma (meaning gamma

radiation) to a simple black eye (assuming black eye to be reasult of a fight)

I saw a rainbow

On engineering fields

It spread its' radiation everywhere

We were told by agriculture guys

Cows will survive

The student otherwise

I saw a rainbow

Over engineering fields

It was spreading radiation everywhere

We were told by agriculture (implying our neighbors from Anthony)

Cows will survive

Student's will survive too if they would eat and drink.

Haiku

By Mike Shaffer

combined together:

oxygen fuel and fire

combustion, my friend

College Experience

By Nick Lynn

As we earn our degree,

Development of the mind is done.

We come here to learn everything,

But instead learn individual thinking.

The scribbles on classroom blackboards,

Can all be written in books.

The experimental lab procedures,

Can be followed by anybody.

We sacrifice ourselves physically,

Staying up all ours to comprehend all aspects.

We sacrifice ourselves mentally,

Laboring over many monotonous assignments.

In the process of completing a degree,

It is found that our minds our limitless.

The possibilities are endless,

Because, simply, we are engineers.

By Patty Farrell

In the dawn of a beautiful and sunny May day

All was quiet on the MSU campus

Except for the building south of the river as they say

Engineering seniors sleeping in the labs as they must

To complete their senior design projects or go bust!

A social life? What's that?

From signals to fluids to controls

Designing, testing and compiling

Better than designing a soup bowl

We have the nickname of "geek" but we are trying

Just think there would be no DVD players to watch the Sopranos!

Without those long sleepless weeks

Completing labs, projects and papers

And working with the team of my fellow geeks

By the way, I know more about their life's capers

Than my own family's freaks and geeks

The brief nap I was able to take on the lab floor

Brought dreams of a simple life

No phones, televisions or pc's

A mountain meadow with me flying a kite

Fire alarm!

I jumped to the ceiling

It hit me--I am an engineer by darn

Even if I wanted the simple dealing

Of life without the gadgets and alarms

I would be dickering and dealing and designing

An electronic kite or the latest hi-tech farm.

The Power of Your Love

(Anonymous)

I try and close myself so tightly

from you.

(as a fist which closes gently on

my heart

and holds it firmly within)

Though you may open it so easily.

You do not try to open it finger

by finger,

though any person would.

Stead, you cut my lifeline,

and watch as it opens to you.

Yours for the taking, and me,

in wonder of the making.

The Night

moon lit

buzz of technology

illuminated islands

of humankind's earth

necessity

driving adventure into mediocrity

with its' inventions

mundane reality

hiss of humanity

shattering darkened

peaceful silence

high-rise heaven

beautiful architecture

hiding the demons of

Earth's hell

improved landscape

why must gardens

be ordered into human's

version of chaos

disappearing shadows

ever-marking humankind's

fearful conquest of

the dark

Reflections

By Paul Hoke

Blue black melancholy

Glitters icy in your eyes

as your life pools

indifferently around your feet

Wondered if I could

still wonder if I did

remembering your eyes

drained of the light

Embracing too quickly to recall

striking out of instinct

Warm explosions envelope us

drinking deeply, I live

Drifting with fell breezes

passing as the moon

now longing…hungry to live

living so that others may die

Still I can envision

the blue black melancholy

of your eye

The truest reflection

of the look in mine

Poem

By Rachel Miller

Wondering…

Thinking…

Seeking…

Finding…

Discovery!

Smiling…

Laughing…

Chatting…

Sharing…

Excitement!

New

Fast

Efficient

Earth-Shattering

TECHNOLOGY!

Those Moments Each One Of Them

By Rakesh Kumar

I never knew; not even in the wildest dream

that those blissful, beautiful, stolen moments spent with her

in solitude ;only she and me,

Which I had taken care to freeze into pearls

and had slyly hidden them inside that casket in my left chest

each one of them,

Taking care that not even she knows,

would after she's gone far from me

turn themselves into red hot beads

exploding violently, continuously and infinitely,

each one of them.

Leaving my heart into tatters

not even allowing it the time to heal.

I helplessly try to pick them up; the pieces of those pearls

and put them back.

But they pierce right through my palm

each one of them.

So what if God had told me my destiny before hand

and allowed me to choose.

I would still have chosen to live those moments

each one of them.

For they were beautiful.

Perhaps they were the only moments I really lived.

They are my life ; each one of them.

Rest is all illusion.

So what if they reduce my heart to tatters

each one of them.

DEATH MY FRIEND

By Rakesh Kumar

My life's friend betrothed me

Lives with me, walks and sleeps with me

I love her not and

to this hatred I never thought why

After every pain I hated her more

Yet she lives with me, walks and sleeps with me

But how loyal has my friend been

befriending me amidst nowhere

in the loneliest moment

in the coldest of nights

when my shadow deserted me

even then I felt her within

I often wonder if she will betray me

but her allegiance needs no second thoughts

with all her love and arms wide open

she waits for me

one day she will espouse me.

By Rob Fowler

She walks along the clouds they say,

The Maiden of the Mist.

To gaze upon her in the sky,

Is like the deep abyss.

So loving are those eyes of hers,

The sparkling gems of life.

One look from this goddess and,

… Joy shall conquer strife.

So smooth her body undulates,

Along the midnight cloth.

She dances to and fro you see,

Along the cloudy froth.

No tear shall ever fall from her,

To strike the azure sea.

While this fair creature of the night,

Sings her symphony.

INTERSTELLAR LIMBO

By Rob Fowler

Spinning through a vacuum

Clueless as we go

Heading towards eternity

Astronomers don't even know

A world covered with crazies

We go dashing around that sun

No chance of intelligent life

Our existence has just begun

Like a molecule to a dinosaur

We drift out into space

In an Interstellar Limbo

We keep a constant pace

By Rob Fowler

A wise man once told me, upon a park bench temple,

Death and taxes are all that's certain

In this grand world of strife and pain, it's just that simple,

Then walked off in the midnight curtain.

Left there to dwell on my demons, I began to fret,

The despair was too great to struggle

And I stepped onto a rope without a circus net.

Rabid, I feared I'd need a muzzle.

And whilst I spat with Lucifer it came unto me,

In a form so painful to thine eyes,

A woman of innocence, an angel could it be?

In horror the Dark Man shrank in size.

As he spun about his cloak filled the air, dark as coal.

And thus I turned to face the goddess,

I 'came ashamed of my thoughts and hateful of my soul

Yet she reached out with love and fondness.

By Rob Fowler

Do you hear the whims of the wind?

They call out to the shore.

To feel its vibrance entrap you,

…warm you to the core.

The region from which it traveled,

Is a glorious sight indeed.

True sight have I not encountered,

But interest plants its seed.

From harbor I betook a craft,

To sail out on the sea.

Of splendor fit for magistrate,

Or gods I do decree.

In the deviltry of the night,

The song still thrills my soul.

It’s soft imposing melody,

Marks the twilight’s toll.

No sleep shall come to me this time,

My thoughts are racked with fire.

To seek out this beloved sound,

‘Tis my great desire.

From the eastern sky it rises,

The flaming ball of might.

The deck has sprung to life you see,

For morning vanquished night.

Onward sailing through this ocean,

Mast held high to Zeus.

Courage rampant among the crew,

The sailor and his dues.

For many years have I bestowed

…patient for this trip.

From the bottom of cups of ale,

I drank my lonesome sip.

The Ship is in good hands I see,

I’ll lie down for a spell.

Wake me when the gates before us,

So I may see my Mel.

By Rob Fowler

I'm Burning in the light of life

feeling my soul on fire

Dance with me to end your strife

indulge in your desire

Bodies groovin' to the Holy Sound

Immersed in senseless motion

naked spirits thrashing all around

Sinless acts of devotion

we are children of the night

Starlight is our only freedom

leave this world, let your soul take flight

who needs someone to lead'em

men and women now liberated

always young we'll never die

life is forever celebrated

Drop all your worries and fly

Miss

By Scott Harris

I miss you…

I miss you like passion misses touch

Like…

Love misses sleepless nights

Like…

Complete misses two

Like…

Discovery misses children

Like…

Angels miss flight

Like…

Expression misses desire

I miss you.

BELIEVE

By Scott Harris

Young One

Old Man…Why do we live? Why do we walk on this vast planet? Is there a purpose, do we breath for a reason, is my soul fueled by the fire of life for some unknown cause? Should we meander to the end of time to find it’s the beginning, or absorb and learn every moment?

Who put us here? Did God create us from the dust, or have we simply always just been? But, if we have always just been, could not God have just been? And if there is a God, does that not mean there is some demon, a supreme evil, something to combat good, to create balance in the cosmos, something to match the ultimate holiness? And, will it also try to capture my soul, or are we…void of this soul?

What is my purpose? Should I try and construct some building that would equal the wonders of the pyramids? Or should I lead the people to some joyous salvation? But am I a leader, a man who’s knowledge could lead the masses? Yes, should I bear a son or daughter with my wife? But, could I be a Dad, or fail and only be a father? Could I live up to their expectations, or would I lead them astray? And what if I had to send my son to some foolish war… to die? How would I send him to see bloodshed of friends, of his enemies, or his own? I could not do that.

Is there a Heaven Old Man? A place where angels sing and praise the glory of God forever, an eternity? Have you lived the life of a prophet or a heathen? Will you walk through the golden gates of Heaven, or be thrown to the lake of fire? Or have I doomed myself to the flame…is Hell my final destination? Has my heart been consumed by the bleak hand of some vile wrath that clutches my love in its smothering hand? Or will I go to Heaven, and will I enjoy it? And am I some kind of wretched spawn for thinking of Heaven as being boring…always singing to God does not sound like Heaven?

Old Man…are you afraid to die? You have one foot in the ground already. Will the light inside of you flicker out or will it amplify and burn in all glory? Did you live life to its fullest? Old Man help me? Tell me the answers I seek.

Old Man

Life…

Life is a choice.

A choice made by you.

I know not the answers Young One.

Believe in…

Believe in all you do.

Put yourself into all you touch.

I do not know why we are here.

But we are.

Build a pyramid Young One

Or lead the people.

The choice is yours.

Follow your heart.

Give your essence to what you believe.

Have children if you believe it right.

Love them.

That’s all that you can do.

If they follow the path of lost souls,

Love them.

If they walk the path of greatness,

Love them.

Heaven… or Hell,

They matter not, believe in where you are going.

I have lived Young One.

Soon I will die.

I am not scared.

I believe in all I did,

And gave myself to all I believed.

I do not know the answers,

But I believe in what I say.

Everyday, Every, and All

By Scott Harris

Everyday I think about you

Everyday I believe more in you

Everyday my love falls deeper and deeper into you

Everyday my soul realizes it has a purpose because of you

Every heart beat I breathe for you

Every sunrise fills me with you

Every poem rhymes of you

Every rose petal delicately dances with you

All nature encircles you in an inter mingling ballad of peace

All grains of sand represent my love for you

All the wandering stars glitter for

All playfully loving elude to your spirit

You are my lone star and I rise to be your night…

A Time For Reflection

By Scott Harris

Picking up the pieces

Our beliefs begin to shake

The very foundation begins to quake

Pathetically we stretch and grab trying to pull ourselves together

Sometimes briefly stopping the sequential fracturing of our essence

Reaching and grasping for what makes us…Us

In a desperate battle to be ourselves

All in vain…

It falls…

We crumble…

Everything that was built is in rubble

Your thoughts… and being lie in a wreckage strewn about your soul

Yet…

We immediately begin to pick up the pieces

Without wait and without heed!

We begin to pick up the very pieces that did not hold us together in the first place

The things that made us who we were…

They failed, and brought us down upon ourselves

But we still begin to pick up those very pieces…

Slowly rebuilding what has already crumbled and failed us before!

Ensuing our fate once again…

Please examine these pieces…

Reflect on where they came from and why you grip them so tight

Are they held for reasons you no longer remember…?

From a time where you were very different

Hold each piece in your mind, body, and soul…

Turn it over in your hopes, dreams, and aspirations…

Breathe their meaning into your heart, thoughts, and desires…

Reflect… and decide!

Keep what is needed and discard… but NEVER forget what is no longer needed…

Rebuild yourself and learn to love who you have become…

Do not let yourself crumble for the same reasons as before

Reasons that were tied to those faulted pieces

Be solid…

Be belief…

Be you… everyday, and be you when it is so much easier not to…

This is your time of reflection…

a motivation

By Scott Morris

philosophers say...

plus one equals minus one,

efforts are in vain.

I would disagree

by adding one to both sides.

two is obvious.

By Tyler Nester

Soon it will be obvious that poetry is not my thing.

The question is, is engineering?

After graduation, hopefully at least one will remain more than a passing

fling.

A Staff's Life in Engineering

By Vanessa Mitchner

As staff in Electrical Engineering

I have never found myself fearing

That my desk would be clearing

Anytime soon.

Letters and papers on some new gearing

Seminar announcements full of cheering

Our brilliant researchers curing

The future world.

AA Forms and drop/add slips

Students and professor's little quips

Copying exams and conference trips,

How many copies?

Many lost students peering

Over the counter for steering

Confused visitors hearing

Go left, then right, and right again!

So if you're around my cluttered mess

Hopefully you won't feel the stress

But I really must confess

Engineering life is one of the best.

Last night I had a itchin’

By Matt Mercieca CSE

By Tony Koenigsknecht ME

A tales been told for some years now

Storm

Extreme Engineering

By Steve Miller Eng No Pref

Last night I had a itchin’

Bob Vance

Three Haikus

Misdirected Bridges

Craig W. Somerton

Nano, Nano

Young Ron

Three Haikus

By Brian and Julie Olson

Misdirected Bridges

Craig W. Somerton

Bob Crachit is out of work.

At my office door

General Coords

My husband…

S cience

C omputers

The Plight of an Engineer

Quiet

To the end, to the death

When shimmering showers

As the mystic moon began to set

Below their vibrant green canopy

Three Days

Я видел радугу

Its' radiation melted metal

College Experience

Poem

Miss

Old Man

Everyday, Every, and All

Everyday I think about you

A Time For Reflection